Chapter 3
Before the Beginning
"Be careful," Draco called out to them as he watched Amber and Mark leave his office. Mark responded with a simple lift of his hand and then shut the door behind them. Mark and Amber were some of the best Hunters out there, but he feared the Death Eaters after the orb weren't working on their own.
Hunters...Draco had disliked the title when it first appeared. After Voldemort fell, Death Eaters and supporters of all kinds either fled, went into hiding, or got rid of all their dark magic artifacts. Young teenagers and other wizards looking for a quick Sickle started taking up requests from the Ministry to catch the Death Eaters and track down the dark artifacts. It wasn't long until the people who took up those requests began getting requests from public contractors. Then the term Hunters was coined and it stuck.
Draco picked up the silver orb and turned to the wall where he'd appeared from earlier. He took out his wand and tapped out an intricate pattern. The wall once again dissolved before his eyes and Draco strolled through. The Elixir of Life… If this were to get into the wrong hands, especially the hands of who Draco thought was behind all of this, then they would be in a very tight predicament.
The blonde kept descending the wooden stairs until he reached the ground floor of his private office. There was three floors in this section of the Manor. The first floor was set up as a Healing station, where he rarely made use of his skills as a Healer thankfully. The second was more of a military headquarters. The third was his warehouse. All artifacts that could be potentially harmful were kept there. He organized everything with a system only he knew so that he could find anything within a minute.
Off to one side of the room was a long, flat table. It contained tools of all kinds: tweezers, pliers, hammers, nails, scapples, etc. And a variety of healing potions, just in case things became more complicated than they should. Draco's usual method was to sit down there with the new artifact and tinker with it. He'd try to understand it and find any weaknesses.
That wasn't what he did today. He set the orb down on the table and sat on the stool. Draco didn't have the faintest idea of how the orb worked. And he might never know. Amber's first report on this mission was to notify him that the lab of the deceased creator had been burned down. His research had either been taken or destroyed in the fire. That left Draco with nothing except the orb.
So Draco sat in his workshop and stared at the orb. He would eventually give in and try to uncover its secrets. He couldn't help himself. He'd become a very curious and daring person over the years. When Malfoy Inc. was handed over to him, Draco had done something his forefathers would skin him alive for. He'd extended the corporation into the Muggle world. He'd delved into profit shares in many of the Muggle's big companies. Once the company gained enough money, he started buying out smaller companies, hiring people to maximize their profits, and then just basking in the money. It was the only way that Malfoy Inc. had stayed afloat. No one in the Wizarding world wanted to be associated with a name that was in Azkaban. But after only five years, people's greed overruled their distaste. They began investing in Malfoy Inc. again, indirectly gaining profit from Muggle industries. Today, Malfoy Inc. had shares in Amazon, Google, and Apple, as well as owning many small businesses in industries such as food, electrical devices, and clothing. Before him, Malfoy Inc. was only involved with ownership of stocks in properties throughout the world. The Ministry took those and afterwards there was nothing left for them. Draco made sure that the Ministry couldn't touch what they owned in the Muggle world.
Draco moved the orb around in his hand. He wasn't too fond of the idea of living forever. People hated him and that would probably never change. Even after all the donations and appearances he'd made, the headlines in the papers would simply be about how he was a fool for looking for absolution. His sins were unforgivable.
He didn't care to be absolved by those people. He just did it cause his publicity agent wouldn't let him get out of those things. His public image was in the gutter. Yet no one could deny that the single, former Death Eater was one of the richest wizards in the world. They at least admired Malfoy Inc., though some people at the Ministry kept insisting that he was using magic on the Muggles he did business with.
The prejudices would never go away.
Draco stood up and took the orb with him. He'd play around with it some other time. He was in no mood to have one more thing in his life frustrate him.
CRACK!
Amber stood in the middle of her apartment for a moment, letting her stomach settle, before opening her eyes. She let her jacket fall off of her shoulders and then hung it up on its corresponding hook. Amber vaguely wondered if the neighbors were ever curious about what that loud noise was.
The strawberry blonde sat down on her bed and began to untie her black boots. She really needed to shower soon. Amber looked around her extremely "quaint" apartment. There were cracks on the walls and chipped paint on every surface. Instead of actually doing some decorating to keep it nice, Amber just covered the wall with things. There were mugshots laughing hysterically or glaring down at her. Maps of Europe, Germany, Durmstrang, Hogwarts, London, and the like were scattered below the mugshots. Multiply newspaper clippings haphazardly covered up the rest of the patches in between maps. There were even a few pictures of artifacts Mark and her had captured over the years.
Amber looked away from the walls and dumped her boots at the foot of her mattress, which took up most of the living space. The kitchen and bathroom took up the rest. She pushed herself off the bed and towards the bathroom. Amber glanced at the major newspapers from around the world on her coffee table but was too tired to read them at the moment. When she entered her minuscule bathroom, she shed off her purple top and let it fall to the ground. When she looked back up at the mirror, her gaze froze on the ruby hanging on her necklace.
Slowly, she moved her hand up and covered the ruby from her line of sight. She pulled that over her head as well and set it gently on the side of the sink. Amber kept her hand over it, fighting with herself not to look at it. She tore her gaze away and could feel her chest begin to tighten.
Hurriedly, she turned around and stripped off the rest of her clothing. Amber refused to get choked up. She'd been six when her grandmother had given her that ruby and explained to her that her parents had been killed by Death Eaters during Voldemort's reign. She didn't remember them, nor did she have any pictures of them to remind her. There was no grave she could mourn over since their bodies had never been found.
Amber walked into the tub and turned on the water. The ice water bit at her skin, heightening her senses. She went through her daily routine, her mind still full of bitter thoughts. Voldemort took her parents, but he didn't stop there. The world, the entire Wizarding community was scarred by the incident. And it still hadn't healed. She had to live with the looks of pity. People knew that her parents had been killed but they always assumed that it had been much worse on her. That she'd been in hiding, or chased, or tortured. She'd only been four-years-old when it all ended. She didn't remember any of it. She was only left with the bitter aftertaste. She and so many others were left to live in the broken pieces. People like Mark and Draco had it much worse. They weren't pitied. They were feared and exiled. They were outcasts. The Wizarding community hadn't healed; it hadn't forgotten; and it most definitely hadn't forgiven.
The blue scrubber fell to the floor. She'd been rubbing her arm raw. Amber turned and switched the water off. Most days she was fine. She lived her life and ignored all the looks and questions and assumptions. Other days, randomly, the anger would consume her. She pulled herself out of the shower, hoping she didn't have much soap on her but not caring enough to check. She began to dry herself off, her long, slightly curly hair falling into her face as she bent over. People assumed that she did what she did in order to avenge her parents. That wasn't true, but she never bothered explaining herself. Amber wished she had known them and been able to love them. Yet she hadn't known them. She wasn't completely sure how you were supposed to love someone you'd never met. She did what she did because she was good at it. Amber wasn't on a mission to purify the world of any evil. Evil would always exist in this world.
Amber looked up and saw the ruby. It had a teardrop shape and was on a thin, silver chain. She wasn't sure why, but she was never without it. It had become a habit she didn't care to break.
The strawberry blonde stood in the middle of her bathroom and closed her eyes. She took three deep breaths, trying to quell her anger. It still lingered when she opened her eyes again, but Amber ignored it. It'd go away eventually. It always did.
Long hallways decorated with vases full of fresh flowers, works of art from some old century or another, rugs and tapestries adding a warmth to the marble and rich decor. Malfoy Manor had a cohesive, expensive, and surprisingly inviting environment. That's how Amber had described it, at least. She somehow put words to what he'd been thinking since he first stepped foot in there. It was exactly like his parent's home and yet nothing like it.
"Hey, Mark! Good to see you back," Max greeted him as he passed by. Mark nodded in acknowledgement.
Who would have thought that Draco Malfoy of all people would do this to his lavish manor? He'd filled it with orphans, kids with Death Eater parents, and kids who simply couldn't be at home for their own safety. They were the ones the Ministry looked away from. After all, the good kids of honorable parents needed the help. Who cared what happened to a Death Eaters spawn? When his personal elf had brought him here around the age of seven, he'd thought it would be just like the rest of his childhood. He'd been mistaken.
Malfoy had given residence to multiple children. Some stayed for a few days, others a few months, and others had yet to leave. Just like him. He was walking to his own room after the dinner the house elves had prepared for them. He saw a few more people before he reached his room but nobody tried to stop him. Others there were Hunters too so everyone knew to let people rest after a mission. Not that his mission was over, but Amber and him had agreed to go back to the Smelly Clam tomorrow and continue their investigation.
Mark opened the door to his room and made a beeline for the bed. He'd take a shower in the morning. All he wanted to do now was sleep on the plush pillows of his canopy bed. The room was slightly bigger than your average room, but nothing exaggerated. Damn Malfoy probably didn't want this to go to their heads.
Mark kicked off his shoes and pushed them away. He soon drifted off to sleep.
He was back. Why did he always have to come back? Mark didn't like the scary, bald guy. He especially didn't like his snake. Yet there he was. He was yelling about something, moving his hands in the air. He kept pointing something at his father. His father was on the floor. Mark saw that he wanted to speak, but couldn't get a word out. The bald guy kept yelling at him.
Suddenly, the man stopped. He turned away from his father and slowly walked away. Was his father shaking? That wasn't possible. His father was never afraid. He made Mark shake. Many times. But he never shook.
"I won't fail you again, My Lord," his father said.
Mark clutched his blanket to his chest. He was looking through the crack in the door. If they found out he'd gotten out of bed…
"I know you won't," the bald guy said. He still wasn't looking at Father.
This did seem to make Father happy. He looked up and was about to stand, when the man turned.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Mark lay in the dark, silent room without moving. He couldn't move. He just lay there, face buried in the pillow, waiting to slip back under.
"Boo!" Amber yelled as she appeared beside him.
Mark moved his head to look at her, not amused. "You're late."
"There was traffic," Amber shrugged, walking past him.
"Yes, I heard about the accident on Apparation Way," Mark rebutted. He was not a morning person.
"It's 11:30 in the morning, Mark," Amber chided from the door of the Smelly Clam. "Your grumpy mood will have to come to an end at some point." He grunted and walked into the restaurant. She followed in behind him.
"Hey, Mark," Joe said from behind the counter.
"Hi," Mark acknowledged as he took a seat at the bar.
"You've been here before?" Amber asked, sitting beside him.
"Many times," Joe answered for him. "He's somewhat of a regular."
"We're here on business," Mark said, before Amber could start with the questions. They both knew this was a semi-popular restaurant for wizards, so it shouldn't have surprised her that he might have gone in there before. "A taxi driver around the age of thirty, brown hair and eyes, came in here yesterday. Anything you can tell us about him?"
"You're probably talking about Jaden. Muggle, comes in here every other week for lunch. All I know is that he's from New York."
"Anything special happen yesterday?" Amber asked, looking over the menu.
Joe leaned back and put on a pensive face. "Well, this Bulgarian dude, wizard actually, seemed to be watching him yesterday. Could've been nothing but he did leave a little while after Jaden did."
"How do you know he was Bulgarian?" Mark inquired.
"Accent. Have a few friends over there." Mark and Amber looked at each other. It was worth looking into.
"Did he come in here before?" Mark asked, turning to Joe.
"Don't think I've seen him before, but he paid with a Muggle credit card. Stacey, pull up the info on that one Bulgarian dude that came in yesterday." A waitress nodded and went to do as he asked. "Anything else you need?"
"No, that'll be enough, thanks," Mark said.
"No problem. Hope this is of help. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have customers wanting lunch." Joe left them to go back into the kitchen. The waitress left them with a copy of the Bulgarians receipt.
"So, shall we look him up?" Mark asked.
Amber shrugged. "Might as well, though he probably doesn't live in London."
"Either way, its worth a shot." Mark got up and started walking to the doors. He looked down at the receipt and read the name again.
Nikolai Botev.
